The Dance Immortal
by Chyna Rose
Summary: The night is full of monsters. Some can walk among us unnoticed. Some hide in the shadows, their horrid visages hidden from view. Join me on this dance of eternal night. Where good and evil walzt as they always have and always will.


**Crack in the Mask** by [Chyna Rose ][1]

  
  
Disclaimer: The gargs are Disney's. The concept of Vampire the Masquerade is White Wolf although the ones I mention are mine. The Tooth and Nail is not a real bar as far as I know. The name Draconi is based on the works of Christine Morgan and was in use before I put Abby in a fanfic. She has given me permission to use the name in print. Many of the vamps used are actual vampire the masquerade vamps that I created for use in that game. The incident that boosted Abby to the 11th generation from the 13th generation actually happened during a game. Also the in-flight movie mentioned bellow does not exist- to my knowledge. I have nothing personal against Jim Carry, and/or Adam Sandler- I just don't like them. And it's more a case of what the scripts are then their abilities. I don't like stupid comedies with little plot and are not making fun of anything (campy parodies like Space Balls I actually like, and the Truman Show was quite good. I blame the writers and casting directors though [It's type casting I tell you! Type casting!]) But that is just a personal pet peeve. I don't own Magic the Gathering though I do play it on occasion (Recently got around to finally making an actual deck. Now if I could only find some way of testing it…) I don't own Pokemon, who have a cameo somewhere within. (Okay, okay, okay. I admit that I like Pokemon, strange as it is. Spent a little too much time reading the fanfic.) If you can find their cameo, e-mail me to win a prize. (Anything to get you people to contact me.) I don't own 'Salem's Lot but I did read and enjoy it. In fact, I've enjoyed reading practically all the Steven King I have attempted to read. And I felt sorry for the dog in Cujo. It wasn't his fault. Rabies is a true threat and tragedy, so do you and your pets a favor- get them vaccinated for rabies on a regular schedule.   


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A lone figure waited in the dark shadows of an ally. Many people passed by, not taking the time to notice the being standing alone. All the more to there pity. A man lurched into the ally and vomited. He shook violently and hiccupped. It was time for another fix but he didn't have the money to pay the high price of heroin. And logically that meant he had to steal the money. Quitting was crazy. The figure crept quietly over to the junkie and grabbed him from behind, covering the unclean mouth.  
A flash cut through the dim early morning shadows as the photographer for homicide out of precinct 26 NYPD as a uniformed officer talked to a redheaded man in a trench coat.   
"So a guy comes up to me an says that his girlfriend was lookin for her cat and found the body here. She called him an he called me an I called it in."   
"And about what time was this Officer Marcino?"   
"An hour after dawn. I called it in and half and hour later you guys came and, well you know the rest."   
The redhead wrote down what Officer Marcino said and moved to a body crouched by the body. He lurked for a moment before he was noticed and a woman with black hair looked up. She had a grim visage that told him she found nothing new, but they were going to go over it again so as to appear to be doing something productive so as not to get yelled at.   
"His name was Chris Corbin. He used to be a taxidermist before he started using heroin. His last meal apparently was a cheeseburger and chocolate shake, judging from the mess by the wall. Other than the tracks on his arms, the only marks on him are two puncture wounds on his neck. No blood was found in or around the body. It looks like we have a serial killer on our hands. This is the same m.o. as the other three guys. The victim was found in an ally, drained of blood through two small puncture wounds on the neck that were the apparent cause of death. Time of death seams to be between midnight and dawn. There have been absolutely no witnesses at the crime seen."  
"Just what this city needs. There is going to be a panic and we can't afford one right now. Some are going to claim gargoyles others a satanic cult. Either way we may have a vigilante group running around causing more problems."   
"Well there's nothing we can do here. Let's get this body down to the morgue ASAP."   
  


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Night fell over Chicago and with it came a second dawn. All over the city predators that stalked the living woke with a hunger. One of these beings took an unmarked glass bottle out of the fridge and guzzled the dark red contents. Outside a police siren wailed, heading to trouble unknown. Abby sighed and turned to her sire.   
"Did you finish packing?"   
"Yes, and I have the plane tickets so there won't be a repeat of last time."   
"That's good. My publisher gave me hell over being a day late getting into Toronto for that book promo. How long do we have till we need to get to O'Hara?"   
"An hour, which means we really should get going. Traffic promises to be a bitch tonight, but then it always is a bitch at this time of day."   
"Well, the night is young so at least we'll get to New York before dawn even if we have to wait before announcing ourselves."   
"Are you sure your uncle won't mind us crashing at his place?"   
"Of course he won't deny his favorite niece sanctuary and if he's still in jail then the house will be ours for the taking."   
"You can't mean that we're gonna break into your uncle's house?"   
"Trust me. Tony would be hurt if we didn't try. It's sort of what happens when you decide to go into an honest trade as a front for an honest trade in a family where honest isn't a high priority family value. For me the family business was more of a hobby than a way of life."   
"Well, I'll just take a bit of a feed and then we can go." Said Flint as he took out a bottle for himself and downed it. Abby washed out the empty bottles and went to check the other rooms of the small apartment for anything she or Flint would be leaving behind. "Well let's get going then."   
  


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The small room was filled with people, most affiliated with the press, waiting for an official statement from the police on the string of bizarre murders threatening Manhattan. Manhattan was often romanticized as a place of mass murderers and crooked cops. Some cops were crooked; after all they were only humans with a measure of power. There were murders in which many people lost their life and thus came under the definition of mass murder. But this was the third time in twenty years when the only thing linking the murders was the way the people died. Whoever this guy was, he was in the same league as the infamous Zodiac Killer and Son of Sam. And he had New York City trembling once the sun went down.   
A man with red hair walked into the room from a small door to the right of the microphone-covered podium. The crowd quieted down and got out their pads of paper, pens, pencils, and various recording devices ready for the police briefing. A short, balding, man in a brown suit came out of the small door and went strait to the podium.   
"Members of the press, I have been authorized on behalf of the New York Police Department to make a public statement on the serial killer that has been terrorizing the city. There have been six deaths that we can attribute to the killer. All victims have been found in out of the way alleys between sunrise and two hours after sunrise. Apparent cause of death is loss of blood through two puncture wounds to the neck. Other than the afore mentioned puncture wounds, there were no markings other than a black eye one of the victims got in a bar fight the night before. All victims were males between the ages of twenty-five and forty-nine and were either working at blue-collar jobs or unemployed. A few were, in fact, homeless. Time of death has been estimated to have been between three am and dawn. At this time we have no witnesses and no suspects. Are there any questions?"   
"Nicole St. John, WYVRN. Is this the work of gargoyles?"   
"No. We have reports of gargoyles going back to nineteen ninety four but these murders date no earlier than March sixth of this year."   
"Howard Peters with the Observer. Is this the work of vampires?"   
"Although the M.O. would suggest vampires, there is no such thing as vampires. What we do have is a deranged human who has embraced the concept of a vampire as portrayed in Hollywood. Now we can't at this time say what this individual does with the blood."   
"Jerry Pearson from the Sentinel. What can citizens do to protect themselves from themselves from this madman?"   
" General common sense will suffice for now. Try to stay in after midnight and avoid going into dark alleys. So far this person has not branched out so there is little cause for alarm as of this date." Said the man at the podium as he shuffled around some papers. "Are there any more questions? No? Then that concludes this press conference. We will notify you as new information as it arrives."   
  


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Night fell over Manhattan slowly, as if the sun did not want to relinquish power to the moon for the night shift. High atop the tallest building in the city, and even the country, seven statues began to crack and break apart in the dwindling sunlight. The statues, once again flesh and blood, stepped down to the stones of the battlement floor where two humans stood. The large lavender creature turned to the black haired woman with a smile, that quickly disappeared as he saw the red haired man.   
"Hi Elisa, hi Matt." said the small bronze gargoyle, ignoring the leader's less than pleased expression. "What brings you here?"   
"News on the street is there's a serial killer loose who strikes before dawn. Although the police are convinced that this guy doesn't have wings, there is a large chance that Castaway is going to use this to his advantage."   
" Ya know, I'm getting really sick of that guy. What have we ever done to him?"   
"Don't know. I don't think we ever ran into him on patrols; and come to think of it, how come we never heard of him before the hunters incident?"   
"You don't think that he's…"   
"Nah. John Canmore's probably somewhere in Mexico by now."   
Goliath cleared his throat before the debate could become an argument. "In an hour we will go on patrol. Brooklyn, you and Broadway patrol along the Hudson River. Lex, you patrol Central Park. Angela and I will patrol Washington Heights. Hudson, you stay here and guard the castle. Remember to stay out of sight and be careful."   
The clan headed inside the castle. Brooklyn and Broadway both attempted to escort Angela in at the same time, but ended up in a shoving match while Angela walked in alone. Lex muttered something about Brooklyn, Broadway, parentage, farm animals, buildings, and manners before running for his life away from his enraged rookery brothers. Goliath sighed as he and the rest of the clan headed in.   
  


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It was the plane trip from hell. The movie was a stupid comedy staring both Adam Sandler AND Jim Carry as court jesters in a middle ages type setting complete with unicorns and fire breathing dragons. There were about ten infants on the plane, and as soon as one was quieted down, another would find some reason to start crying. Abby and Flint were stuck in the middle of coach due to a seating mishap. On one side there was an extremely hyper little boy cheering the fact that he was on a plane BY **HIMSELF** for the first time. (and oh would you like to see magic the gathering cards and hear about them while you're stuck there?) On the other side was an overweight, balding, single, forty something man bent on picking up Abby by telling her absolutely every thing that came into his mind. In back an effeminate guy was whining to his bad tempered companion about how he hated to fly. Towards the front a teenage guy was hitting on all the stewardesses as his two younger companions cycled through being mad at each other to best friends.   
"So after all the work Mike did on the McAllister account, the deal falls through. I told him that there was something fishy about a company that sold crocheted bathing suits over the Internet, but Mike never listens to me. Not like you. I feel I can tell you anything and you would understand. "   
Abby smiled weakly at the man, then turned to Flint and rolled her eyes. "I don't think that I can make it till the plane lands." she whispered to him.   
"Now Abby, I know these flights make you hungry, but you'll have to wait till we land. And I thought you ate before we left Chicago." Flint whispered back. Abby just sighed.   
"I did, but that's beside the point. I don't think I can stand these people any longer."   
"Well, you're going to have to."   
"I almost didn't find my Squee's Toy in time for the game. It may not be a powerful card, but it's still my favorite artifact."   
"That's nice." Flint replied in a patronizing tone of voice to the excited eight year old bouncing in the seat next to him.   
"Wanna see it?" asked the youth, shoving the card in question under Flint's nose.   
"Maybe some other time." replied Flint as he gently pushed the card away. Flint turned to Abby. "Maybe you should try to get some work done. It usually helps keep your mind off things."   
"I guess. How much longer till we land in New York?"   
"About five minuets sooner than the last time you asked. Look, I know this is the flight from hell, but I'm sure we can hold out for about another hour or so. I mean, what else can possible go wrong?"   
As soon as those infamous words were out of Flint's mouth, the plane began to shake. The whiner in the back began to get hysterical saying that they all were going to die until his companion whapped him upside the head with a beauty magazine while muttering 'shut up James' and going back to reading. The seatbelt sign went on followed by the ding of the intercom.   
"Attention all passengers. There is no cause for alarm. We are experiencing some heavy turbulence. Please return to your seats, buckle your seatbelts and raise all tray tables."   
<-- "Just what we need. Turbulence." groaned Abby as she began to rub her temples. Flint just settled back with a paperback copy of 'Salem's Lot.  
"Try to get some rest my dear. It may not be a comfortable flight, but there's nothing we can do about it. At this point nothing…"   
"Don't you dare say it. I will not have you jinx this flight any further."   
  


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Lex sighed as he banked to the left for another pass over central park. These solo patrols were tiresome, but at least he didn't have to put up with his rookery brothers' fighting. It was getting to the point that he wanted to beg Angela to just choose one of them in order to get a night's peace. But it wasn't just the fighting. The fighting could get tuned out after a while. Lex hated being ignored by his "closest" friends. They used to be inseparable brothers, but now it was only Brooklyn and Broadway. And the inseparableness wasn't in friendship but rivalry. By ignoring him, they put out the message that he was nothing; that no female, especially the fantastic, wondrous, perfect, Angela would ever take him as her mate. He figured that it would serve those two idiots right if she **did** chose him for her mate. Not that it seemed likely anyone would choose him as a mate. He sighed again. He found himself doing that a lot lately.   
The night was quiet, and he felt himself being lulled into a false sense of security like the cloaked and huddled figure bellow him. She… he… it… strolled about slowly, unaware of the bit of shadow trailing behind it. Lex saw the shadow, shook his head clear of his musings, and got ready to act. The figure paused to look at a wildflower, reaching out as if to touch it before bringing its hand away violently. The shadow coalesced into the form of a man and got ready to strike the figure. The cloaked figure looked up suddenly, seeing the new man. It,_ no… she, _Lex thought, glared at the man. Lex was still descending to the scene, when the man attempted the strike. The woman at that point ducked and clawed at the man. He howled in pain and lunged at the woman. And he would have connected with her, had Lex not plowed into him and the woman not moved away so quickly that Lex did not see her move. The man got to his feet and growled at Lex, before turning his attention back to the woman. Lex grabbed at the man, ducking a punch the man threw. Lex tossed the man into a tree, but that did not knock the man out as it usually did the other human scum. The man got up woozily, then bolted, as a howling was heard in the distance. Lex went over to the woman in order to make sure she was alright, and was mildly stunned by what he saw. Her skin was milk white and scares danced their way over it. Lex could see images in it and had to mentally shake himself out of staring. Her eyes were large, nearly as large as his own, somewhat sunken into her skull with the pupils colored such a dark blue they looked almost black. Her hands were gnarled into claws by the same scares, making it hard for Lex to see her as a young, if unfortunate, woman of 27 rather than a ancient woman of 99. Her cloths were tattered and caked with mud. The gargoyle nature of Lex caused him to want to help this woman with every ounce of his being.   
"Are you alright, miss?" he asked, concern covering his face.   
"I am fine. Thank you."   
"Umm… is their anyone I should call- just to let them know that you are safe of course."   
"Of course. But no, there is no-one to call."   
"If you don't have a safe place to stay, I know some people who can…"  
"I have… friends to stay with. Thank you for your help…"  
"Lexington. And you are?"   
"Rose. I must be going now." She said, walking towards a corpse of trees. Lex saw her go, climbed a nearby tree, then leaped into the air. As he caught a thermal that placed him above the park, he thought. _There was **something** strange about that woman. She didn't seem overly surprised about that man attacking her, and she didn't really react to my being there. Not in the normal horrified or frightened way. It was almost as if she was used to gargoyles. But those scars… I think they are all over her body, and they** look **like scars from a fire. And, if those scars **are **from a fire, then it's a wonder that she survived. But these are strange nights. And I have more important things to think about then the past of a homeless woman, although I hope she will be alright._ After finishing that thought Lex decided to head home. Unbeknownst to him, Rose watched him leave from her spot in the trees.   
"Farewell gargoyle. You have proven your worth this night as a worthy alie by helping me, when so many others would, and have, turned away. Let it be known that Clan Nosferatu will be watching after you. When you befriend one of us, you befriend us all. And those who cross one of us cross us all."   


@---<-- 

   [1]: mailto Chyna1Rose@aol.com



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